Page 107 of Yours to Lose
The words are right there, but I can’t quite make myself say them. Instead, I grip Jo’s chin, turning her head to the side and capturing her lips, thrusting my tongue inside her mouth to slick against hers. She tastes like beer and the Fireball she ate after dinner andJo. It fills my senses, and my hand tightens on her chin, tipping her head farther back to take the kiss deeper. It’s all passion and fever and words left unsaid, and we kiss until we’re panting into each other’s mouths and she’s rocking back against my dick whimpering, “Please.”
“Please what, Hurricane?” I ask against her lips, dipping my free hand down to glide along the seam of her thong. “If you want something from me, you only have to ask. I’ll give you anything.”
Her gaze flicks up to meet mine. Her green eyes are hazy with need, and a bead of sweat from the damp, heated room rolls down her neck to pool in her collarbone. I splay my free hand over her stomach and lean forward to lick it off, smiling against her skin as her whimper fills the bathroom even as my cock jumps at the salty taste of her on my tongue.
“Please fuck me, Jordan. Right here. Right now.” She covers my hand with hers, sliding our joined hands under the waistband of her thong to where she’s hot and dripping for me.
“Look at you,” I murmur, circling her clit with the pad of my forefinger and then dipping down to push a single finger inside, grinding down on her clit with the palm of my hand as she sucks in a sharp breath and pushes back against my finger, taking it even deeper. “So fucking sexy when you ask for what you want. When you tell me how to touch you. How to make you feel good. So, what do you want, Jo? Tell me every single thing.”
“You,” Jo moans out as I add a second finger, bending to kiss along her shoulder as I glide in and out of her, soaking my fingers in her arousal. “I just want you.”
“I just want you too.” I thrust my cock against her, groaning at the friction. Needing more. “Anywhere, everywhere, all the time. You’re all I think about. All I see. You fucking consume me, Hurricane.”
Suddenly, urgently, needing to be closer, I pull my fingers out, pushing her underwear down until it pools on the floor. With a hand on the center of her back, I push her forward until she’s pressed against the vanity, arms splayed out, gripping the sides of the counter. She gasps at the feel of the cold granite against her heated skin, and I press a line of kisses down her spine, smirking when I see Jo rub her thighs together. I grip her hips and pull her back so she can feel every inch of me sliding against her.
“You needy for me, Jo Jo? I see the way you’re rubbing those soaked thighs together. Your pussy needs to be filled up, doesn’t it?” I rock my hips again, pushing my cock down through her slit, covering myself in her and nudging her clit, loving the way she cries out.
“Fuck yes,” she groans, a hint of frustration in her voice. “I need you so badly. No one makes me feel like you do, Jordan. Now. Please.”
I kiss her shoulder, gripping her ponytail in one hand and winding it around my fist. “You beg so pretty for my cock, Jo Jo. Now spread your gorgeous legs so I can bury it inside that tight cunt, right where it belongs.”
She slides her legs apart and I grip my cock in my free hand, hissing at the contact. Bending my knees, I press against her entrance, sliding into her so slowly I have to grit my teeth to keep from coming on the spot at the feel of her tight, wet heat surrounding me.
“Shit, that feels good,” Jo rasps, rocking her hips back to take me the rest of the way.
I tug on her hair, pulling her up so her back is against my chest, and wrap an arm around her waist. “Look at me,” I rasp, pulling out and thrusting back in, meeting Jo’s gaze in the foggy mirror. “You keep those eyes on me so you remember who it is who’s fucking you so well. Who’s filling this perfect cunt the way it needs to be filled. And look at us. How good we look together. How perfect.”
Jo’s eyes flash as I take her in slow, steady strokes. “No one’s ever fucked me like you do. Made me feel like you do.”
Her words warm something inside me at the same time, they make me feral to prove to her that it’s only her too. And since my brain still won’t let me say it in the three words that would tell her exactly how I feel, I show her in the only other way I know how. Releasing Jo’s ponytail, I slide a hand around her neck, tightening my grip enough to have her gasping, her eyes flashing with lust and sheer want that almost brings me to my knees. I bring my other hand to her clit, working it in firm circles as I fuck her, driving my hips into hers until I’m all pleasure and sensation and unadulterated desperation.
Our bodies slapping together, our panting gasps, and the pounding of the shower are a sensual soundtrack, and when I tighten my hand around her neck in a gesture of absolute, utter possession, Jo cries out, her inner muscles clenching around me. With our eyes still locked, she reaches back and wraps an arm around my neck, bringing our sweat-slicked bodies impossibly closer.
Pleasure swims in my veins as I pound into her, and when Jo turns her head and nips at my ear, whispering, “It’s you, J. Only you,” need for her threatens to take me under. I increase the pressure of my fingers on her clit, pounding into her harder.
“It’s you, Jo. Always. Only. Fucking. You.” I punctuate each word with a thrust of my hips. It’s the closest thing to a love declaration that my fucked-up brain is capable of, and I think Jo knows it because her eyes go darker, more intense.
“Harder, J. I’m close. So fucking close,” she grits out, rocking her hips back to meet my thrusts and reaching down to cover the hand I have on her clit, helping me stroke her.
I piston my hips, bending my knees to hit the spot I know will send her flying. “Then give it to me, Jo. Come all over this dick and show me who you belong to.”
“You,” she moans out, as I slam into her and increase the pressure of my fingers on her clit. She comes hard and fast, slapping a hand on her mouth to muffle her cry. The restrained sounds of her pleasure have my dick swelling, my own pleasure crashing into me. Black spots dot my vision as I grunt out my release, letting go of Jo’s neck to hold her tightly as we ride it out together, her head pressed back against my shoulder and my face buried in her hair.
When we’re both wrung dry, I pull out, spinning her around and gathering her against me, one hand wrapped around her waist and the other stroking her hair as our hearts gallop against each other, our gasping breaths coming in tandem.
“So good,” she mumbles into my shoulder, her body shaking as she comes down from her high.
“It was so good, Jo Jo. You were so good. So perfect,” I whisper in her ear, pressing a kiss to her temple and guiding her into the shower, straight under the miraculously still hot spray. With one hand anchored to her waist, I reach up and grab the shampoo. “Can you stand by yourself, Hurricane?”
She glances up at the shampoo in my hand, a confused look crossing her face. “What are you doing with that?”
I press a kiss to her forehead. “I’m washing your hair.”
“But why?”
“Because I want to.”
She tilts her head as she studies me, looking like a dream with her hair spread over her shoulders in wet ropes, water cascading down her body. “I can wash my own hair. Been doing it for years and years.”
